[M] there's a fire starting in my heart

Ezekiel de le Poer · 05-07-2012, 10:14 AM

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Again, he hit the ground. Again, the beast was upon him. His life was saved only by the hands wrapped around the monster’s throat, clenching and grasping with sharp claws and hungry desire. He could feel the pulse of blood somewhere under the thick mass of earth and sand colored fur. Greedily, his hands worked into that plush pelt, digging and prying for the hot life that rippled and quivered under his grasp. Somewhere in there was life—it was not the soul, oh no, but there was something real and something about that made him desperate. Even as a massive leg pressed against his chest, against his own throat, Ezekiel was showing all of his teeth and laughing, choking on blood, because for once in the miserable repetition of his life, he felt something.

Black pits and white-hot dwarf stars filled his vision. He saw but did not see the world collapsing around him. Ezekiel’s body trembled. Only, when all hope seemed lost, did he finally feel his dead man’s grip loosen, but they did not fall. They remained half-caught in the mess of mane, and on the ground, blood seeping from his mouth and wounds, Ezekiel let out a coughing, breathless laugh. He laughed even as he pulled Sirius to earth with him, arms wrapped around the bulging throat as it rippled and pulsed and changed under his grasp.

Blonde hair streaked with black earth and hot blood stuck to his face, fell crazed and unruly around his head. His chest heaved against the half-weight it bore, against the compressed muscle and lanky shape that had taken form within his arms. Still, with his arms around his rival, his enemy, his brother, he laughed a most terrible laugh and stared into a star-spotted sky with wide, clear eyes.

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